


Level of Concern Chapter One

by dannidontyouknow



Series: Level Of Concern [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), M/M, Mentions of Covid, analogical - Freeform, brief mention of a break up, future mentions of emotionally distant partner, future mentions of unsympathetic partner, mentions of food, super brief mention of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannidontyouknow/pseuds/dannidontyouknow
Summary: Virgil Thorsen is just a singer in a band with his friends, Patton Hartford, Roman Princewell, and Janus Xander, as well as a receptionist for the local tattoo studio and piercing shop. Logan Bradberry is just a high school teacher who just started his career. Just like everyone else, COVID-19 throws a wrench into their day to day lives, but will it make their new, budding relationship sink or swim? Inspired by the song Level Of Concern by Twenty One Pilots.
Relationships: Analogical - Relationship, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Level Of Concern [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956670
Kudos: 5





	Level of Concern Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I’m posting this. This is an idea I’ve been working on since May or June just for funsies after hearing Level of Concern by Twenty One Pilots for the first time, and I’ve just fallen in love with the variations of these characters and the story. Thanks so much to all of the wonderful friends in the Thomas Sanders Unofficial Fan Run Patreon Discord for helping me brainstorm and for encouraging this, special shout out to Cat, Abby, Mel, Kristen and Panda. The inspiration for the meal made by Logan and Virgil in this fic can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79_IsTV8X-c, as well as some parts of my brain which holds some cooking knowledge from culinary school.

I stood outside of Logan’s house, wondering if it was too late to call and cancel this whole night. My life might have been a mess even before the virus outbreak started, but I at least had my band, my job, and these weekly Saturday night dates to give me routine and keep me sane back then and early into this virus’ progression. It was only about three weeks ago that we had to stop band practices and hangouts at Patton’s house to keep each other safe. We still skyped when we could, and we’ve had a few hangouts and band practices over skype, though it isn’t quite the same as seeing them all in person. Then, on the bus ride here, the tattoo and piercing shop sent out a mass text telling us all that for the foreseeable future, we were going to have to close due to the virus outbreak. While we would easily be able to stay open and meet code to the high sanitation standards and to help slow the spread by tweaking a few minor things in our operations, there just wasn’t enough demand and business to justify doing so at the moment. I was so paralyzed with shock when I got the message that I couldn’t react, and almost missed the stop to get off. By the time I fully processed the reality of it, I was already walking up the sidewalk to Logan’s.

Two out of my three coping mechanisms and structures in this weird time we are living in are gone. While I do still have this one left, part of me wants to turn back and go home to get my thoughts together and sleep this off for the night. Though, it looks like I won’t be getting that option. As soon as I had grasped my phone in my hoodie’s pocket to call Logan and tell him I thought it’d be best if we could reschedule our date for tomorrow or even postpone it to next Saturday, the front door swings open, revealing him. It’s faint, but there’s a smile ghosting his lips and a spark lit up in his dark brown eyes, behind his black Warby Parker frames.

“Good evening, Virgil!” Logan greets. Despite my feelings just moments ago, I find myself smiling widely, some uneasiness ebbing away. “You haven’t been standing there long, have you?”

“N-no-” I answer. My voice betrayed me. I had replied too quickly and I had stuttered. I can’t help but cringe and wince at how noticeable the lie was, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Logan either.

“Is everything alright, Virge?” His voice was so gentle that my body relaxes ever so slightly. Despite him being the reason I had just calmed down some, I want to try lying again and tell him I’m okay. It’s silent for a beat before I sigh, knowing even if I did lie, it would only be an attempt because Logan would be able to tell immediately.

“Not really.” Logan’s face shines with concern. He moves back out of the doorway, opening the door even further as he does. He makes a gesture with his arm, welcoming and ushering me inside.

“Come in, please.” Taking a deep breath, I cross the threshold into Logan’s house. He had mentioned that he’d only moved into this house about a month ago, though by just how empty it looks and feels, I would have guessed it was more like only a few days ago. The walls are completely white, the cabinets and the fridge in the kitchen just to the right of the entryway are black, as is the mantle on the far wall of the living room. There aren’t any decorations hanging on the walls or the mantle, and while he has his own furniture, it’s in such pristine condition. It looks like it’s been intentionally staged for a photoshoot for an interior design magazine. There isn’t much color, the navy blue couch and chairs in the living room are pretty much the only pop of it on the whole first floor. Even then, the end tables framing the couch and the chairs, and the coffee table in front of the couch are also black.

Moving farther in as Logan leads me to the couch, I do notice that there is one more pop of color. On the black entertainment stand across from the couch, just below the TV mounted on the white wall, there’s a giant fish tank full of fish of all different shapes, sizes, colors, and hues. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. All of the different colored fish against the deep blue background of the water, watching how gracefully they swim and how their tails swish around like scarves in slow motion. Had Logan not put a hand around my wrist and tenderly guided me to sit down with him, I’m sure I probably would have just continued standing there, too enchanted by watching those colorful fish dance to notice how awkward I looked. Even as I sat down on the couch, I still couldn’t take my eyes or my attention away from the fish.

“Virgil?” Logan’s voice finally breaks me out of my trance, as well as the feeling of his hand firmly placed on my shoulder. As I bring my full attention back to Logan, I notice a proud grin pulling at his lips. “I’m glad to see you’re enjoying my mini aquarium, and as much as I would like to talk your ear off about the species and names of all forty-two of them, it seems like there’s something more important that we should talk about.” He places a reassuring hand on my own, gingerly squeezing it. “Is everything alright?” He’s looking at me so intently, that I can’t help but feel like I can trust him and be honest. I feel my body ease against the couch cushions until I’m leaning back into them. I take a deep breath, getting my thoughts together, and my emotions straight before opening my mouth.

“So, on my bus ride here, I got the news that the piercing studio I work at is closing for the time being.” I explain. There’s sympathy in his eyes, but no surprise.

“Oh, Virgil… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I just… it took me by surprise. I mean, I know it shouldn’t have, but… it did. It was part of what little routine and structure I had left that was helping me through this weird, uncertain time.” Logan chuckled, squeezing my hand again.

“Trust me, I understand. Before distance learning started a few weeks ago, that’s how I was with sharing my lunch breaks in the lounge with a handful of the other teachers, and the weekly Friday Astronomy Club meetings I was the supervisor for. The teachers and I still eat lunch together over zoom, but it’s definitely not the same now, and I still don’t know if we’re even going to continue Astronomy Club meetings for the rest of the year.” I smile back at him. For some reason, I have the feeling that Logan is secretly the most caring and funniest teacher ever. Or maybe that was my giant crush on him talking.

“Now all I have left of that routine and structure are these dates-” Immediately, I feel Logan stiffen, and for a brief moment, I panic. I sat up straighter, looking at his face for any sign of negative feelings, only to find none and instead, see a blush rising to his cheeks and his other hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well… I’m glad these dates have been able to help you in this weird time we’re living in. If there’s anything else I can do-” I place a hand over Logan’s, which is still holding my own.

“Trust me, these dates are more than enough.” This time, I squeeze his hand. He smiles warmly, and I can feel my own face lighting up as well. Then, he takes his hand away from his neck, and he lets out a bit of an awkward cough.

“Alright, well, we have dinner to make!” He pats my hand that was still on top of his other one, and squeezes both of my hands before taking both of his back and stands up. This time, I can’t help but awkwardly rub the back of my own neck as I stay seated on the couch.

“Um… about that. I know when we talked about cooking dinner together over the phone I said that it sounded great, but I’m not actually very good at cooking.” Logan slows his walk to the kitchen and turns his head to look at me.

“Oh, that’s okay! You can just sit back and relax on the couch if you’d like. It shouldn’t take that long, I pre-cooked a lot of it last night so that it was mostly just a matter of heating it back up. The only things that really need cooking are the sauce and the pasta.” He’s already in the kitchen now, standing by the fridge. I practically rip my converse off my feet as fast as I can.

“No, I want to help! I just… what I can help with is pretty limited.” I say, as I quickly stand up from the couch and fast-walk to the kitchen.

“Oh, well then… would you be comfortable cooking off the meatballs?”

“I would probably overcook or even burn them by accident.”

“Okay, what about building the tomato sauce after I cook off the meatballs?”

“I feel like that’s a bit too complex and out of my skill set.”

“O-kay… Can you cook pasta or toast bread?”

“Now that sounds like something I can do!” We share a smile before setting to work. From the fridge, Logan pulls out an array of ingredients, as well as a tray full of just formed meatballs that he must have made either stayed up late last night, or earlier today before I arrived. In the pantry, he points me towards the box of dry spaghetti noodles and a loaf of Italian bread. Prepping the loaf of bread to be toasted took hardly any time at all, and after I had cut and brushed it with some olive oil, all that was left was to wait for the oven to come up to temperature. In the meanwhile, I put a pot of water with what I originally thought was far too much salt on the stove to boil. I had Logan test it and he claimed it was perfect. ‘You want it to be as salty as ocean water,’ he had said. After my prep was done, I turn to lean my back against the countertop, watching from behind as Logan cuts up what appears to be garlic, onion, and basil. Suddenly, his eyes dart to his phone which was next to his cutting board, and his motions stop to pick up his cell.

“Shit.” He swears quietly. I look at him in shock, not taking him as one for profanity.

“Logan? Is everything alright?” I ask. He lets out a breath before setting his phone back down and runs his hands down his face.

“Hm?” He turns around to face me. “Oh, it’s about one of my students, he was struggling a bit this year in his classes, and now that we’ve started distance learning, it seems to be getting worse for him. I have a meeting with him, his parents, and his other teachers Monday morning before zoom classes.” He pushes his glasses up a bit and starts rubbing the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he quietly claps his hands together. “I’m sorry, tonight is about us, not my students or work.” I reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, we talked about my work tonight, it’s only fair that we get to talk about yours if you want.” Logan gives a small smile, and a relieved sigh.

“His name is Gavin, and he’s a smart kid, really, but he’s definitely more right-brain oriented. Literature, languages, art, music, and some history classes he thrives in, but give him anything with numbers or equations and formulas and he struggles. The school he came from had a different curriculum, so this year, he’s playing a bit of catch up. Physical science is a freshman only course at our high school, and he transferred as a sophomore without that credit. Since our school only offers physical science to freshmen students, they refused to let him take it. So instead, to make up that credit, he now has to take physics which is similar but harder than physical science. On top of physics, he also has to take chemistry and geometry like most of the other sophomores to stay on track, which is just making the year harder on him. Now that we’ve started distance learning, he’s not getting as much one on one time as he needs, or as many hands-on approaches which is what was working for him, so now his grades are taking a nosedive.” Logan explains,

“Wait, how do you know this kid? I thought you taught biology and environmental science. He’s not taking three or even four sciences this year is he?”

“Oh, he’s not! You’re right that those are the classes I teach, but I also do a lot of substituting across pretty much all the subjects whenever they need me to, with the exception of physical education. The teacher for the elective cooking class had a lot of personal things going on this year, including having a child just before distance learning started and is now out on maternity leave. So, since I was the one filling in for her when she was missing days, they’re just having me teach the class for the rest of the year. That elective is one of the classes Gavin is taking this year, so he’s practically a student of mine. He’s also one of the Astronomy Club members, or as I refer to them as, one of the Astro Kids.” I can’t help the ‘aw’ that I’m sure is audible from leaving my mouth when Logan says the nickname, though I quickly bring my hand up to my mouth to try to cover it up with a cough.

“That sounds like a lot on that kid’s your plate, and on yours, Lo.”

“Yeah well, I kind of knew what I signed up for when I chose to work in education.”

“Well, I can tell you got into it for the right reason. You genuinely care about these kids Logan, and that’s the most important thing. I’m sure you’ll be able to help this one somehow.” By now, he’s smiling from ear to ear, a blush coming across his cheeks, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck again.

“Thanks, Virge.” Feeling brave and bold for probably the first time in my life, I push myself forward, place both my hands on Logan’s shoulders, lean up on my tiptoes, and kiss him on his lips. Though that’s as far as my bravery and boldness lasts, because as soon as I manage to touch him, I’m overwhelmed with anxious energy. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, my heart pounds in my chest, and my stomach feels as if Roman or Janus had set up the amp to their respective guitar or bass right up against it, maybe even both of them. While I can tell I took him by surprise, it’s not long before Logan responds by placing his hands on my waist and pulling me closer. Only for him to then firmly push me away, and run past me. I stand there frozen in time, unsure of what I did wrong, until I hear him call my name. “Virgil! The pasta water’s ready!”

“Fuck!” I exclaim. I turn around to see Logan frantically turning the burner down, and try to wave the steam off the pot. I quickly reach for the uncooked spaghetti, dump them into the pot of boiling water, and then turn my attention to Logan.

“I am so sorry!” Logan starts to laugh, putting me at ease.

“It’s alright, I guess we both just got a bit... carried away and stopped paying attention.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again, and now I start laughing, grabbing my stomach as I do. “I thought my stomach had just growled loudly, so I looked to see if you had heard it, and I saw the water just starting to boil over in the pot.” It takes us a few minutes to gather ourselves, and by the time we do, we have tears in our eyes. After calming down, we set back to work. I’m about to add a bit of olive oil to the water when Logan puts a hand on my arm. “What are you doing?”

“Adding oil to the pasta water?”

“Don’t do that! It’ll make the sauce not stick to the pasta!”

“Oh, really? I thought it helped the pasta not clump together!”

“Yes, technically it does, however it stops the sauce from sticking to the pasta as well. Plus, I’ll be using some of that pasta water to build the sauce after I cook the meatballs through, so it would also add extra, unnecessary fat to the sauce.”

“Look at you, I’m not even one of your students and you’re teaching me things!” He beams down at me, another blush coming to his cheeks, before turning his back to me to finish cutting the ingredients from earlier. By now the oven has reached 350 degrees, so I place the tray of oiled loaves in, and set a timer for ten minutes. I check my phone, only to see a few messages from Roman teasing me, and one from Janus wishing me luck and telling me to have fun. I smile down at my phone, rolling my eyes mainly at Patton’s pun-filled messages.

Despite all of Patton’s teasing, I have him to thank for setting me up with Logan a few weeks ago. It’s been about half a year since my first boyfriend and high school sweetheart, Remus, and I broke up, and it was nasty. I remember calling Patton to help me pack my things after Remus had ended it and stormed out of the apartment the two of us had been living in. Roman must have found out somehow, because in the middle of packing boxes, we heard them fighting out in the front yard, and we had to drop everything and rush out to pull them apart.

I will be forever grateful to Patton for letting me stay with him for months while I got myself together and learned how to be my own person after that breakup, letting me stay as long as I needed. Every few hours in those first few weeks, he would come into the room to make sure I was okay and to drop off food. He never even made me help out with any of the chores or pay rent, despite my best efforts to do so because I believed it was only fair. He refused to take my money and wouldn’t let me lift a finger to do any chores. Once I finally got myself together earlier this year and moved out in January, he started pushing for me to date again. It wasn’t until late February that I finally gave in and let him set me up with Logan. It was instant sparks from the moment we met, and the rest is history.

The timer goes off, and I get off Tumblr and put my phone away, scrambling to grab some oven mitts. I take out the now toasted bread, and I have to say, since it’s something I made, it doesn’t look half bad and appears edible. Turning my attention to the spaghetti, I grab a fork and fish out a strand, grab it with my fingers, and throw it up at the cabinet. It stuck there, and I’m confident that the pasta’s finished. I turn the burner all the way off, move it to an inactive burner and turn to find something to fish the noodles out so that Logan could have the pasta water for the sauce. Logan must have finally finished cutting the ingredients, because he turns back to me, a pan in hand, and heads toward the stove. There’s confusion and shock on his face, and I can’t help but be confused as well.

“Hey, Virgil? Why is there a singular spaghetti noodle on my cabinet door?” Logan asks,

“What do you mean? I was checking to make sure it was done!” I respond. It’s the look on his face of trying to contain his laughter that gives it away. “That’s not a thing either is it?” Logan chuckles.

“No, no it’s not.” His dam breaks, and he laughs almost as hard as he did moments ago when the pasta water almost boiled over. I smile nervously.

“I’m sorry!” I say, joining Logan in his laughing.

“It’s totally fine, Virgil.” He places a hand on my shoulder, which comforts me. Though I’m sure it’s to steady his body that’s still shaking with laughter, before taking a breath to calm himself. “So when you said you weren’t very good at cooking-”

“I’m like, just a step above most of the contestants on Worst Cooks in America, and that’s being generous.” Logan chuckles again.

“Well, now that the pasta and toast are done, why don’t you go relax and I’ll bring you a plate when it’s ready? It shouldn’t be too much longer.” I nod at him, before heading back to the couch. Not wanting to get myself caught in another trance from Logan’s beautiful fish, I quickly find the remote and turn on the TV. One look at the face on the screen, and I already know what Logan was watching before I had arrived. I’d seen too many memes of the man’s face, all of them relating to some woman named Carol Baskin and, somehow, none relating to his practically rejected eyebrow piercing, or any of his other piercings.

“Definitely didn’t take you as someone who would be interested in the Tiger King thing on Netflix.” I say,

“Hm? Oh, it’s definitely not something I would watch on my own, but my students know that I love documentaries, so they recommended it, and I finally caved since they keep talking about it in our zoom classes.” Logan explains, “Have you seen it?”

“Bits and pieces. We talked about it at work a lot because of how bad some of his piercings are. Especially his eyebrow ring that’s barely hanging on by a thread of skin and his, uh… other one that he talks about.”

“Ah! Well, I’m only at the start of episode three, I don’t mind rewatching the first two episodes if you want to watch it.”

“Maybe later, I’m pretty sure Jeopardy is on.” I exit Netflix and flip through the channels until I find the one I needed.

“I did not take you as someone who would want to watch Jeopardy.” Logan says as he enters the living room, placing a glass of white wine in front of me.

“Oh, it was a nightly tradition with my parents, especially my dad. We would watch and play along, though we never actually paid attention to the points. Almost like Whose Line Is It Anyway, but with trivia instead of improv.” Logan shakes his head at me as he returns to the kitchen, and I take a sip of the wine. I’m caught slightly off guard, as I hadn’t expected it to be a sparkler, and I’m guessing he just opened the bottle with how strong the bubbles are. It makes me want to cough so badly, but I make sure I got the bubbles down before speaking next. “Thanks, by the way!” I force out, hoping it doesn’t sound like a lie.

“No problem! I do have Sicilian red wine as well if you would prefer. Sparkling wines pair well with anything and everything, and since I didn’t know what kind of wine you like, I figured dry champagne would be a safe option for this dish.” I vehemently shake my head affirmingly for the alternative option, though I tried to curb and hide my enthusiasm.

“Yes, please! Red sounds perfect!” It’s only a few moments before Logan returns to the living room with two glasses of red wine, and takes the glass of champagne back to the kitchen with him, and a few more minutes before he turns the stove off and starts plating. I take a sip of the red wine, and hum at the much less aggressive palette and at the slight bitterness from the tannins. We must be catching the tail end of it, because Alex Trebek is announcing the category of Final Jeopardy before the commercial break just as Logan comes in with two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, garnished with the toasted bread, in hand. He sits down next to me, handing me one of the plates and a fork. Knowing Logan’s part of the dish was undoubtedly good, I take a bite of the toast and grab a bite of spaghetti that didn’t have the sauce on it. Knowing those were the components I helped with and tasting them to make sure they were at least edible, (I would argue to even say good), weirdly fills me with pride.

“What do you think?” Logan asks,

“Oh! I’ve only had bites of what I made first. I’m sure what you made is fantastic, I just wanted to make sure what I helped with was at least edible.” I answer, going in for another bite. Logan chuckles as a grin graces his face.

“Oh, you’re not allowed back in my kitchen.” My heart drops, and I almost spit my bite with the sauce out.

“What? Why?” He puts down his fork so that both of his hands are free, and gives a small, amused scoff.

“Lets review, you let the pasta water almost boil over. You almost added oil to the pasta water. The toasted bread is somehow between the consistency of toast and a giant crouton. You threw a spaghetti noodle at my cabinet, and the pasta is slightly underdone.” He punctuates each example by counting each one off on a finger. He’s smiling as he lists them off, so I can tell he’s joking. I lightly punch his shoulder.

“Oh come on! It could be so much worse considering I made it! I could have burned the pasta, and undercooked the bread! You said the pasta water was both of our faults.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you that one at least.” He’s still smiling, and I roll my eyes at him. “Oh come on, I’m kidding Virgil. If anything, I at least have a baseline to help you build on now.” I turn my attention back to him, unable to contain the glee I felt at him saying that. “Though I have to admit, you were right that your skill level is just above the contestants on Worst Cooks in America.” I stick my tongue out at him, earning another chuckle.

“By the way, the meatballs are really great. The sauce is too, but what all is in it? I know I saw you cutting up basil, garlic, and onion, and there’s obviously tomatoes in it as well, but I swear I’m getting something else.” As soon as I ask that question, I almost immediately regret it, as I can see the mischievous grin hit his lips, and a matching glint in his eyes.

“Well, the trick is to take the meatballs out of the pan and set them aside to rest, and use the same pan that you cooked the meatballs off in to build the sauce. It adds some extra flavor and much-needed fat to it. You guessed four of the six ingredients correctly. One of the other ingredients is a bit of juice and zest of an orange. Can you guess the last one?” The way he’s speaking like a villain giving away his evil plan to the hero he thinks he’s bested has me on edge.

“No?” My response comes out more like a question than a statement, and he starts chortling maniacally.

“Virgil, what do you hate more than anything else on the planet?”

“Carro- no!” My heart might as well be on my feet by now. “No, you did not!” He’s cackling now, and I have half the mind to rub and scrape my tongue clean with a washcloth or even my own hands and nails. “How? Where? You ruined the spaghetti sauce for me!” This is by far the hardest I’ve ever seen him laugh. He’s still laughing as he tries to explain.

“So, sugar neutralizes the metallic taste leftover from the tin the crushed tomatoes come in, but rather than use just straight granulated sugar from sugar cane, I wanted to try using something else. Then I remembered on our first date when you told me you despised carrots, which gave me the idea to see if I could use their natural sweetness to accomplish the same effect sugar would have had on the tomato sauce without you noticing the carrots being there at all! It didn’t totally neutralize the sauce, so I just added some more sweetness and citrus from an orange to get rid of the rest of the metallic taste, and voila!” His grin grows in size, he’s still chuckling as he gives his exposition, and I almost want to gag.

“You monster! You’ve killed me!” By this point, I’m putting on a show of fake coughing, and start to lean against him until I’m laying on my back, carefully putting the plate of spaghetti on the coffee table in front of us before letting my head fall into his lap, and my arms and legs sprawl out as much as they possibly can at weird angles.

“Ah, but did you know there were carrots in there before I told you? Do you taste carrots in there at all now?” His face no longer has any hints of mischief, and has been replaced with curiosity. Was he a science teacher or a mad scientist? Or somehow both? I roll my eyes and look up to meet his.

“No, I still don’t taste carrots and I wouldn’t have known the sauce had any in there had you not said anything.” He grins proudly.

“Then this experiment has proved my hypothesis correct!” I roll my eyes again before sending him a death glare.

“You wanted to ban me from the kitchen, yet you’re the one who put the most disgusting thing in what was otherwise a perfect sauce.” I scoff, his face was still a bit too smug for my liking. He reaches for his glass of wine, the look of victory never leaving his face as he takes a sip. The whole sauce fiasco completely distracted us from Jeopardy, as it’s the sound of the evening news chime that finally brings us out of our stare down. I groan, tired of hearing the mass hysteria and toilet paper hoarding this pandemic has been causing. American Idiot by Green Day has not aged well, and is somehow more relevant now than it was when it was written fifteen years ago. I groan and sit up slightly to reach for the remote that’s next to my plate on the coffee table to change the channel, when Logan stops me by gently touching my wrist.

“I hate hearing about it all day every day too, but I just want to see if there is any actually important update we need to know, and then I’ll let you pick anything you want to watch. Deal?” Logan pleads. Remembering him mentioning his hatred for Bob’s Burgers, and knowing exactly where to find it on Hulu, I nod. It will be perfect revenge and sweet payback for him forcing me to eat carrots, and unknowingly at that.

“Deal.” I agree. I place the remote between us, leaving the channel alone. The first thing they show annoys me and is the whole reason I wanted to turn the channel so fast. It’s things that have already been announced and what we already know. Schools, dine-in restaurants, retail, and any other nonessential places of business or places that can’t meet CDC sanitation demands to stay open have been mandated closed until further notice. Restaurants can only do carryout or delivery orders. Then it’s highlights of what the governor must have announced today, because the first thing they show is a highlight reel, with bullet points next to the video. Salons have now also been forced to close, surgeries that aren’t life-saving are being temporarily suspended, and office jobs are now being urged to work from home if at all possible. Finally, the kicker, and the thing that makes my heart race and nearly sends me into a panic. After 11:59 PM on Sunday night, a mandated shelter in place order will go into effect.


End file.
